


Dear Cas

by paddedjaralecki



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Catholic Guilt, Eventual Smut, Fluff, M/M, Slow Build, Slow Burn, widower Castiel
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-11
Updated: 2017-05-10
Packaged: 2018-10-30 12:13:01
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,913
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10876551
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/paddedjaralecki/pseuds/paddedjaralecki
Summary: If you find any spelling/grammar mistakes, please feel free to point them out.





	Dear Cas

**Author's Note:**

> If you find any spelling/grammar mistakes, please feel free to point them out.

The rain. It was no longer the product of a cycle. The rain was now god weeping. The rain was Castiel weeping. Everywhere he went, pelting down, rain. When the words were spoken, when the white sheet was pulled over her head, a dull, grey sheet of clouds was pulled over his.  
" Time of death: 4:12 PM, February 13th."  
The clouds were weeping right alongside him. He no longer found them to be beautiful wisps that drifted across the sky, or stormed in to smite down upon the Earth in streaks of electricity mercilessly. He no longer saw nature as beautiful and a creation of a God. There was no God he would ever worship that would let his own creation seemingly be made only to suffer.  
It felt as if his life had been a large tar pit of pain, stuck inside, never allowed to escape. No God would be so cruel as to take away the woman he loved, and just in time to see everyone he knew with their loved ones. He didn't have enough time. He had married to her young, during his college years. He said being married so young was not stripping his freedom, or bonding himself to someone who he didn't know if he would love years after. It meant knowing that this was the person he loved truly and deeply, more than any other woman, or even man. So when he lost her, he did what he had been doing until he met her. He ran.  
He just traveled from pace to place. A drifter. He never stayed in one place for more than a month. Sometimed he stayed for only a few days. He knew it was childish and he knew that he was dwindling the money his parents gave him on shitty motels and gasoline and the eventual real meals he ate, but he didn't care. Why would he?  
He ran so far away he left his family behind. Other than a phone call that occurred once a month, he never spoke to any of his family. His brother always called. It was always the same. Cassie come back. Cassie stay with me. Castiel please come back. Cas, everyone's worried.  
He ran all the way from Maryland to Lawrence, Kansas. He knew it was stupid as hell, but he vowed not to go back until he had seen all 50 states. He had to look everywhere. Had to make sure there was no place better for him. That was why he stayed at all.  
The B&B he stayed at was owned by a nice woman named Ellen, and her daughter, Jo. They smiled a lot and had a relaxed vibe to them. They gave him his room key and told him to check in for breakfast, all home cooked. He smiled warmly at them, strode down the hallway, and took a step into the chestnut room.  
He sat down the small case that held his belongings. He wasnt that diverse with what he brought. He left everything but his clothes at his- no, the house. He removed his coat, leaving only his feathery white dress shirt.  
The wristwatch he wore was now discared amongst his bag's contents, having wrong time now. He glanced over to the clock on the bedstand. It was almost hard to read, the cloock was small, as if it was a mere paperwieght. Eleven on the dot. He surrendered himself to the cold matress.  
~~  
He was very new to this. He was very new to being alone. Even if it had been nearing months since she had left him, he had never left her. She still was harbored in his heart heavy like an anchor. Dreams were haunted by her and the most beautiful of them would be turned into a nightmare when he woke up. He didn't know if there would ever be a reason to stay anywhere. He doubted it.  
The morning service was just a buffet-like area in the Hotel's Lobby. There were, as promised, home cooked foods. Castiel settled for a biscut with four butter squares melted inside of it, and coffee. He added four creamers and at least ten sugar packs. He liked it sweet. He needed the energy, anyways. He wondered if anyone was wondering why he needed so much sugar. There were not many people there, other than Jo and Ellen setting up the rest of the breakfast. They attempted small talk, and failed.  
'Whatever,' He thought, 'I would drive them away.'  
Ten minutes into this meal, though, two men came in. Ellen and Jo obviously knew them, based on the snarky welcome and a hug. He went back to his coffee and didnt pay attention to them.  
He did notice, though, pie. It was just apple pie, and it was home made, and he couldnt trust them, and he didnt have a liking for pie, but it was apple pie. He had to try it. He waited, though, until about everyone there had noticed the pie. Ellen and Jo even got some. He walked over anxiously, seeing a single slice remaining. It just so happens that the shorter man of pair that had entered has also noticed the pie. They both exchanged a glance, which, in turn transformed into a stare. A challenge.  
'What am I doing?' Part of him wondered, 'This guy could whoop my ass over this pie, and he looks like he might.'  
The man had only the boldest emerald set in his eyes, with highlights of yellow, and a hue of near brown lacing in between the forestry. His cheeks were elegant and defined covered in freckles, with a face laced with stubble in the right places. He was muscular, and clearly didnt need gel to keep his hairstyle in place. Castiel did not dare look at his lips.  
"Now, Dean, I'm sure this poor guy isn't looking for a turf war over a slice of pie."  
Dean. His name is Dean.  
"Come on, Sammy, dammit it's the last piece." He whined.  
"You can have it." Castiel decided, straining to keep his voice straight.  
Dean shot the other man a look that was both a sarcastic grin and a smirk, as if to say 'I told you so.'  
Castiel ran out of coffee, but needed an excuse to stay. This man was beautiful, and quite breathtakingly so. He sulked back in retreat and picked up the waffle iron, crafting only half of a waffle. He dragged himself down to his seat. It had his trenchcoat looming over it.  
He sat down and chewed the syrupy squares until he had finished, and just as he was going to leave, the beautiful man, Dean, rasped his knuckles on his table twice.  
"Don't sweat it about the pie, man, I'll get you a slice tomorrow if you want." Castiel had a flattened palm against the table, and Dean spread his hand out in front of it. Castiel took the chance when Dean turned to look at Jo. Woah. His lips looked amazing  
"I mean, if you're good." Dean teased, his fingers brushing lightly against Cas's.  
Castiel moved his hand off of the table and slipped it into his trench coat. His heart was going insane, and his entire body felt like it was trying to explode. Oh god, no. Not with a stranger. Not now. He turned to leave, but his heart anchored onto the stranger.  
"What's your name?" Dean called between the small distance.  
"Castiel." It rolled off of his tongue unpleasantly.  
"Castiel." Dean repeated, the words rolling off of his tongue like a match against it's strike.  
Castiel left for his room, basically panting. No, this can't happen. Not with a man, not here, not now, no no no no. Please, why did this happen?  
The next thing he knew he had discarded his trench and his tie was hanging loose around his neck and it felt tighter than a noose because what happened was a death sentence and he would never be okay again. He was bent over the toilet with his breakfast pouring into the bowl and out of his stomach. He couldnt see right and there was just himself and the darkness surrounding him.  
He was eventually able to tear himself from the now putrid area and do his best to make sure it didnt look like he'd just puked up his breakfast. He stumbled back to the bed, drenched in sweat. He tore off the tie and his shirt, finding himself stumbling to the shower.  
He didnt bother letting the water get warm, and instead turned his face onto the relenting coldness. It pelted down his spine and into his hair. He took a rag and tried to scrub it off, tried to clean it out, tried to make himself clean again. He knew that wouldnt be possible, though.  
He finally collapsed onto his bed without pushing himself under the covers. It was an odd feeling. He was drenched in sweat but felt like ice. He couldn't hear anything but his own panting breaths and his heart beating in his ears. Next thing he knew, it all went black.  
~~  
Castiel woke up at midnight. He had a headache and a craving for coffee. Maybe he had a craving for some things that were certainly not coffee, but it was too early to get started on that. He stumbled out of bed, and cupped his face in his hands. Wow, he thought, I should get a razor. His face kind of hurt to touch.  
He took yet another shower. Sometimes you just neeed more than one to wash it off. Once he was dry he threw his coat on over is shirt, not bothering to put on his tie. He needed something to drink.  
He flung the door open and closed, the door key placed in one of his coat's inner pockets. He didn't hesitate to make sure no one was looking when he threw himself into his car and drove out of the parking lot and onto the roads, almost hitting a truck.  
He pulled into some less shitty looking dive bar. He didn't know anyone here, and no one here would know him. He slid into the seat with the least people near him. Normally he would settle for coffee but latley he had favored straight whiskey instead. There was bar food floating to the other men around him, and some women.  
A man sat next to him halfway through his glass.  
"Whiskey?"  
Castiel turned to face the man from the hotel. Dean.  
"Are you following me?"  
"No, I like to roll through here once and a while."  
"Well, that's nice, Dean."  
Dean chuckled. "I still owe you that piece of pie."  
Castiel rolled his eyes playfully. Wow, he was a lightweight. Or maybe it was because he lacked any food in his system.   
Dean called the barman over and ordered a slice of apple pie.  
"Now, I know it isn't as good as Ellen's, but should be better than nothing." Dean gave an endearing smile.  
"Appreciated."  
"Castiel, right?"  
"Yes."  
"Just rolling through? I've never seen you here before, and you don't look like you're trying to move in exactly. How long will you be staying here?"  
"Until i can see if there's a reason to stay." Castiel chuckled bitterly.  
"A reason to stay?"  
"I'm not on the run, but my family keeps trying to get me to go back to Maryland."  
"Family? Got a wife?"  
"Not anymore."  
Dean narrowed his eyes. The barman delivered the slice of pie, to which Dean slid out the bill, as if it was practiced. He pushed it in front of Cas.  
"Pie." He insisted.  
"I don't think I can eat it right now. I'm sorry to waste your money, Dean." Castiel shook his head.  
"Don't sweat it, Cas, I get it, man. I'm not exactly having all that much luck with women either." Dean flicked his hand up, a barely visible indent on his ring finger that lacked a ring.  
"She died. Lukemia. Her name was Hannah. She told me she couldn't fight anymore." Castiel remained straightfaced.  
Dean drummed his fingertips across the table. "You're not the worst looking guy Cassie, you sure you don't have to beat away the gals with a stick?" Dean played.  
"I'm sure." Castiel muttered.  
Dean sighed deeply. Cas ordered another glass.  
"What do you mean a reason to stay?" Dean asked when the glass arrived.  
"Hannah dying- it made me realize i put all my faith and happiness into her. I don't particuarlly consider myself a happy person anymore. I never found someone who made me happy like she has."  
"Jo tries to be that person for me. She's more like a cousin to me, though. Her mom and my uncle have a thing, but he's never around."  
"What about you?" Castiel asked. Dean shot him a confused look. "With women."  
Dean almost cackled. "You're not the first to ask that."  
"Why are you..?" Castiel tilted his head.  
"Cas, I mean, don't get me wrong, here, I could have any woman I have but hookups just aren't as fun as they used to be."  
"Oh." castiel raised his eyebrows.  
"I also don't seem to have hookups with women as often because all the chicks with huge racks from highschool are moved away or married, and I am a man with morals." Dean talked with his hands.  
"Who do you hook up with, then." Castiel felt his heart pick up.  
Dean raised an eyebrow. "Well It's hard to narrow it down to a type." Dean surveyed the bar. He gestured to the guy doing kareoke. "Never seen him before, but if you have any gaydar at all you can tell."  
"Gaydar?" His heart picked up, accelerating.  
"It's like being able to tell if someone's into dicks or not. Really simple shit. My gaydar reading from you is almost negative. Shady past, a male widow."  
And so with Castiel full of a glass of whiskey, laughed.  
"I am a not exactly open to being a queer, Dean. I'm a Christian." He didn't even make eye contact. He did, though, order another drink.  
"Well that was not expected, but nice to know, I guess. Also, are you sure you should have another drink?" Dean saw a barista slide Castiel a glass, and gently laid his hand over Cas' wrist. His heartbeat was going fucking insane.  
"You okay?" Dean kept his hand wrapped around Cas' wrist.  
"I just told a complete stranger I'm queer, Dean, and I think everyone else here heard it too, so yes, Dean, I feel amazing." He almost laughed, and brought the glass to his lips, shaking loose his wrist from Dean's grip.  
"So why am I seeing you here?" Dean inquired.  
"What do you mean?" Castiel asked.  
"I mean, why are you in a bar? You seem like a lace-up kind of guy."  
"Trust me, Dean, you don't want to know why i decided to come to a dive bar at this time."  
"What time is it?" Dean thought aloud. He looked at the clock behind the bar. "Oh, shit!"  
"Did you have a date that you're missing?" Castiel mocked.  
"Cas, it's closing in on three in the morning, and I've got to be at the garage at seven."  
Castiel's eyes widened. "I think we should probably let you get back to your house."  
"Not leaving you here." Dean stood and twisted himself, popping his back.  
"I'm not a toddler." Castiel rolled his eyes.  
"You'll thank me in the morning when your hangover isn't as heavy as it could be." Dean put a hand on Cas' shoulder, and guided them both out.  
"Why do you need to be so protective over me?" Cas asked.  
"Because I might not have known you for long, but I know that you'll try to drive home, and I'm not letting you do that." Dean looked around. "Plus that barista was taking pictures of you and I didn't really support that movement."  
"What can I say, Dean?" Cas said sarcastically. "Gotta beat 'em off with a stick."  
~~~~~  
The pair ended up taking Castiel's car, because Dean knew that no one would fuck with his car, he was a regular. Besides, he could fix it if someone did, but Castiel couldn't. Whiskey made Castiel sleepy, and this car was obviously not the one Cas was used to. The cieling was too low, and the seat didn't go far back enough.  
Castiel and Dean were both large men, which was probably why, leaving a very small space beween them, where niether of them would put thier arm in fear of making the other uncomfortable. Castiel fell asleep five minutes into the drive. Dean rested his arm down to change gears once, and found that he had to keep it there, because in his slumber Castiel had wrapped his own arms around Dean, resting against his shoulder.  
Dean hated to have to slip out of Cas' reach, because Castiel grunted sleepily when he did. Next thing Cas knew, Dean had an arm wrapped around his waist, and was helping him open the door. Castiel looked younger when he was asleep, or half asleep. the hotel door swung shut automatically, leaving Dean wondering what to do. Castiel had went just about limp in his arms. Dean steadied him to his bed, laying him down and writing out a note.  
'Learn to handle your whiskey, Cas.  
-Dean'


End file.
